


Number 923

by eggshua (you_lynxed_it)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe- clones??? science??? idk, Angst, Fluff, M/M, clone!jisoo, scientist!jeonghan, scientist!seungcheol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:44:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_lynxed_it/pseuds/eggshua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment that Jisoo is created, he is destined to die. He’s a failed experiment- number 923- and there’s nothing more to say. He’s just another disappointment; another tally on a scientist’s clipboard; another reason for funding to be cut from the program. The rules state that he is to be destroyed as soon as possible, just like the nine hundred and twenty-two that came before him. </p><p>But Jeonghan has never been one to follow the rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Number 923

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swayying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swayying/gifts).



> fuckjisu@tumblr: but actually ive always had an idea of an au where jisoo holds like unlimited information and the defect is that his eyes literally have Galaxies™ sparkling in them n hes having a lil panic attack bc hes scared of what he knows
> 
> this isn’t exactly what u wanted but i hope it’s okay <3 enjoy~
> 
> u guys can request stuff at eggshua.tumblr.com (>’ ^’)>

“Bring in the next one.”

The intern- a Jeon Wonwoo- wheels in a familiar silver test tube. It’s the third one Jeonghan has seen today, and the fifteenth this week. The only difference is in the number on the side, stamped in barely-dried white paint: 923.

“Thank you,” Seungcheol says. “That will be all.”

Wonwoo bows and leaves the lab.

“He’s good,” Jeonghan says.

“He doesn’t talk much, which is good.” Seungcheol connects the wires to the test tube, clicking each one in place, and Jeonghan takes the time to look at the clone.

When he’d seen the first clone- experiment number one- he’d been breathtaken. And how could he not have been? It was genetically perfect. They had made sure of it. Soft black hair, smooth skin- glowing with a pink tint from the thick test tube liquid- and eyes that held _stars._

 _That’s just a side effect of the genes we tampered with_ , Seungcheol had said, a little remorsefully, but Jeonghan had gotten lost in those eyes. While Seungcheol and the rest of the team were busy doing checkups to make each and every brain cell of the clone as efficient and responsive as possible, Jeonghan was staring in awe.

Then, of course, the oxygen tube malfunctioned, and experiment number one choked to death in the test tube fluid.

Now they’re on number 923, and it’s the spitting image of number 1. Jeonghan watches as the wires light up, casting a bright green tinge on 923’s forehead. It’s feeding information to the clone and Jeonghan observes it, waiting to see how 923 takes it.

They’ve never had a clone that took the information perfectly. When they had approached the government with the original proposal, they were clear with their motives- a person with access to knowledge beyond their imagination would be invaluable if produced. They could extend the reaches of space travel; cure innumerable diseases. Jeonghan had promised them results within a year, if enough funding was provided.

They’re nearing eleven months and every single clone has been a failure.

Clones 2 through 389 were overwhelmed by the information fed into their brain and went insane, ripping out oxygen tubes and wires. After hundreds of thousands of dollars in damage, Seungcheol was forced to admit failure and re-adjust the genes, re-writing entire sections of code.

It worked, partially. Clones 392 on were able to take in the information, but none were able to complete the questioning process. Their brains were clouded by the overload of information- they’d fizz out before Seungcheol could get responses out of them. It was the same thing, over and over and _over_ again.

They did have interesting ones. Number 457 shouted garbled slurs at Seungcheol and tried to break open the glass to kill him. 673 ripped out his own hair. 834 communicated to them, in clear, precise Korean sign language, the story of an axe murderer.

Seungcheol taps the button on his microphone and 923’s earpiece blinks with white light.

“Good evening. Can you tell me your name?”

Number 923 drowsily paws at his mouth, where the oxygen tube is hanging. Jeonghan stifles a laugh.

“No,” Seungcheol says sharply. “Don’t touch that. Look at me.”

923 blinks, as if deciding which command to follow first. Apparently order matters, because he removes his hand slowly from the tube and then shifts his gaze elsewhere. Jeonghan catches the glimpse of the familiar blue swirls in the clone’s eyes as they meet his. And then 923 _pouts_ at him.

“Look at me,” Seungcheol says, louder. 923 blinks questioningly at Jeonghan.

“Go on,” Jeonghan says gently. “Look at him.”

Surprisingly, 923 obeys him, albeit grudgingly.

“Good,” Seungcheol says drily. “Can you tell me your name?”

923 nibbles on his oxygen tube slightly. “Can you let me out first?” It’s a little muffled, but still very clearly playful. Jeonghan bites his lip to keep from smiling.

“God, it’s another defective one,” Seungcheol mutters. His hand reaches for the switch, ready to fill the container with sodium hydroxide for the third time today, but Jeonghan pulls his hand back.

“Don’t. Just continue the questioning.”

“Well, he’s obviously not perfect.”

“Who cares? We have to have something to show them. This might be it.”

923 watches their exchange curiously, tapping on the glass to get their attention. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan says, not unkindly. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Experiment 923,” the clone says, then after a pause, “Jisoo.”

“Jisoo,” Seungcheol snorts. “Okay.”

923- _Jisoo_ \- frowns. “Is that not my name?”

It’s the test tube manufacturer’s name- Kim Jisoo- and it’s scrawled across the inside of the tube, _ah, of course_. Jeonghan feels disappointment rise up in his throat, but pushes it down. Another defective clone who isn’t smart enough to know his own name.

“There you go,” Seungcheol says triumphantly, a clear _I told you so_ in his words. He reaches for the switch again, and something snaps in Jeonghan.

“No, stop.” Jeonghan smacks his hand away. “Stop.”

“What? Why?”

“What are you doing?” Jisoo says. There’s no apprehension in his voice. He doesn’t know what’s coming.

“Nothing,” Jeonghan says again, firmly. He gives Seungcheol a look. “He’s doing nothing.”

“Oh, c’mon, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “You suddenly develop a conscience after nine hundred? Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll fill it with water first.”

It’s what they’re legally supposed to do anyways- knock them out in the water, then dissolve their bodies- but Seungcheol’s grown numb to it over the course of a year. Jeonghan has heard ear-splitting shrieks as the clones are eaten up by acid, fully awake and alive. It’s a quick, clean way to dispose of their failures, but the thought of the same thing happening to 923- to Jisoo- makes Jeonghan feel sick to his stomach.

“Do you want to do it?”

“ _No_.”

“Then why don’t you want me to?”

“Just, just shut up.”

“What, you’ve become attached to him? After a full two minutes? Please.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Jeonghan snaps. “Just shut up, okay?”

“I’m just saying, don’t miss him too much,” Seungcheol says, pulling a switch to his left. The pink fluid in the test tube starts to drain, and Jisoo’s mouth opens in wonder as his bare feet touch solid ground. The wires retract, along with the oxygen tubes, pulling back to be cleaned and used on number 924.

It’s a familiar process- one that hasn’t been made any easier to bear with time.

A valve opens by Jisoo’s feet and water starts to trickle in, slowly at first, rising up to his ankles. Jisoo frowns as the water level goes up to his knees, knocking at the glass between him and the scientists.

“Wait, I think you forgot to give me back my oxygen tube.”

His voice is clearer now that it’s not muffled by thick test tube liquid. It’s bell-like and sweet. Jeonghan’s breath catches in his throat.

“Sir?” Jisoo’s voice is higher-pitched now, maybe in fear. “I said, I think-”

“Be quiet,” Seungcheol says. His hand is on another switch now, ready to drain the water after a few minutes.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jeonghan says, voice strained. He doesn’t dare look up.

“Okay,” Jisoo says finally. “I trust you.”

_I trust you._

Jeonghan’s eyes flick up to meet Jisoo’s and for the first time, Jeonghan sees more than just stars. He sees a flash of fear; the innocence of a newborn. And pure, unconditional trust.

“Close your eyes,” Jeonghan says quietly.

The water rises to the top.

For a moment, Jisoo stays determinedly calm, eyes closed and fists clenched.

“Take a breath,” Seungcheol says, feigning sweetness. Mocking Jeonghan.

Jisoo opens his mouth and coughs, bubbles rising to the surface. His eyes shoot open and he scrabbles at the glass, fingertips pressed up close.

And Jeonghan sees red.

“Seungcheol, stop. Stop it!” He grabs the hand on the switch and pulls it back forcefully.

“What the hell, Jeonghan!” Seungcheol’s nostrils flare and he tries to pull the switch again, but Jeonghan pushes him back.

“No. Don’t.”

“What is _with_ you today?”

“Nothing.” Jeonghan breathes out a silent prayer, sighing in relief when the water level starts to go down. “Give me a towel.”

“What? If you’re doing what I think you’re doing-”

“I’m doing exactly that.” Jeonghan makes his way over to the test tube, typing in a security code and undoing the clasps. “There are towels by the locker to your right.”

“What are you doing?”

Honestly, Jeonghan doesn’t know; he’s just powered by impulse, a single rush of adrenaline, and a thousand thoughts. “Just let me do this.”

“Jeonghan, fuck, _no._ Don’t. I’ll call security.”

“No, you won’t. Give me the towel.”

“What makes you think I won’t?”

“Goddamn it, Seungcheol.”

“What about the nine hundred other clones you didn’t bother to play Jesus for, huh? Why is this one worth it now?”

“Just give me the towel!”

The door to the test tube swings open, a small wave of water splashing out and running into the drains. Jeonghan kneels down by Jisoo, who’s shivering and coughing rather pathetically.

“Are you alright?”

Jisoo just nods, panting for breath.

A towel is dropped on Jisoo’s head. Jeonghan quickly musses his hair with it, then drapes it around the clone’s shoulders, ignoring the man standing next to them.

“You know they’re not allowed to live,” Seungcheol says in a low voice. “We could lose our jobs over this.”

“Who’s going to fire us?” Jeonghan scoffs. “Just go home, Seungcheol. I’ll take care of it.”

“This isn’t right.”

“You were the one trying to drown him and you’re saying I’m in the wrong?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, you’ve killed four hundred clones by your own hands. I’m a fucking _saint_ compared to you, so don’t try-”

“Go _home_ , Seungcheol. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jeonghan shrugs off his lab coat, tossing it on the chair behind him.

“Is that true?” Jisoo whispers, clutching onto Jeonghan’s arm.

Jeonghan thinks his answer over for a moment. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

“It’s my job,” Jeonghan says, as if it’ll make anything better.

“Okay. I-” Jisoo’s grip tightens on his arm as Seungcheol slams the door behind him. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I-” Jeonghan pauses, running his tongue over his chapped bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

“Then don’t say sorry.”

“You’ve got a point.”

 

* * *

 

 

After grabbing a set of extra lab clothes from a nearby dispensary and dressing Jisoo in them, Jeonghan locks up the lab and leads the clone through the back door to the side parking lot.

“Cars,” Jisoo remarks.

“Yes. Cars,” Jeonghan replies numbly. He’s still processing what he’s just done. “We’re gonna get in one.”

“Cool,” Jisoo says after a moment. “The 2016 Cadillac CTS. Is that yours?”

“Nah. Mine’s the Acura.”

“2015 ILX.” Jisoo nods. “That’s nice.”

“You’re a fan of cars?”

“Whoever programmed me sure was.”

“Huh.”

Jisoo is awfully cheery for someone who just had a near-drowning experience. Jeonghan supposes it’s a good thing. At least it distracts him from thinking about the implications of whatever he just did, and what he’s supposed to do with the clone now.

“Nice car, sir,” Jisoo says.

“Call me Jeonghan.”

“Oh. Cool. I’m Jisoo.”

“I know.”

“Am I Jisoo? Who named me that?”

“Er. Well. You’re not really Jisoo.”

“Oh? Then what’s my name?”

“Expe-” Jeonghan cuts himself off. “You don’t have one.”

“Oh. Does that mean I can choose one?”

“Sure.”

“Can I still be Jisoo?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Um, one question.”

“Yeah?”

“Are we doing something illegal right now?”

“Hm. Possibly.”

“Is taking me out of that lab illegal?”

“Possibly.”

“Is my existence illegal?” Jisoo wonders.

“Let’s not get into existential crises here.”

“Okay. Is Seungcheol going to get you arrested?”

“Hopefully not,” Jeonghan says under his breath. “Nah, he wouldn’t sell me out.”

“Is he… mad at me?”

“At you? Probably not. At me? Definitely.”

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo says as they pull up in his driveway, “if saving me was illegal, why did you do it?”

“What?”

Jisoo studies him. “I know you were supposed to kill me. After I didn’t pass a test, or _something_.”

“Well, yes,” Jeonghan admits. His grip tightens on the steering wheel. “To be honest, I don’t know why.”

“Huh. Okay.” Jisoo lapses into a pensive silence.

“Jisoo?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Did you know that more than one million people die in car crashes every year?”

“Were you scared?”

“No. I trust you.”

“Hmm.”

“Jeonghan?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you going to do with me?”

“I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jeonghan brings Jisoo to an empty guest room and gives him clothing- real clothing, not thin white lab clothes.

“Are you warm enough?”

Jisoo thinks over it. “Do you have a thermometer?”

Jeonghan laughs and passes him a thicker sweater.

They watch a movie as Jisoo gnaws contemplatively on some apricot granola bars.

“I already know this movie. I can recite the entire screenplay. Wanna hear it?”

“You know what, why don’t you play a video game? I have, um, Muramasa: The Demon Blade.”

“Oh!” Jisoo immediately brightens up. “I love Muramasa! I’ve been wanting to play that since, well, since I was made. Which is today.”

“Happy birthday.” It strikes Jeonghan that Jisoo really was, in a sense, born today, and yet he’s talking like he’s known the world- and Jeonghan- all his life. And maybe he has, a little bit. After all, Seungcheol and Jihoon are on the genetic programming team.

“Thank you. Can I play video games?”

“Sure you can.”

Jeonghan works on his computer as he watches Jisoo play Muramasa. It’s interesting how the clone uses the console like a trained gamer. Then again, Soonyoung used to be part of the team.

“Jisoo?”

“Mhm?”

“How much do you know?”

“I know enough to function as a member of society.”

“No, I mean…”

“If you’re asking me for the cure for cancer, I don’t have it.” Jisoo smiles wryly. “I have random things all inside my brain but they’re...not finished yet. I can’t hold one thought down without another three wanting my attention.” A pause. “Does that make me…bad?”

“No,” Jeonghan assures him quickly. “Is it scary, sometimes?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. There’s things like terrorist attacks and bad thoughts that go around up there a lot. They’re a little like demons.” Jisoo looks up at him with those trusting eyes. “But you make it go away.”

It’s presumably for this reason that Jisoo crawls into his bed at night instead of the neatly prepared guest bed. And Jeonghan just doesn’t have the heart to chase him away.

That night, he dreams of the four hundred clones that he killed. He dreams of Jisoo dying, over and over again, and he wakes up in cold sweat with guilt eating at his heart.

 

* * *

 

 

“What the fuck happened yesterday?” Seungcheol hisses as soon as Jeonghan enters the lab.

“What do you mean?”

“You brought home a goddamn clone, Jeonghan. He’s supposed to be _dead_.”

“Well, he’s not, so let’s just move past this and keep doing work.”

“You think I can just move past this? It’s against the rules, Jeonghan. Just bring him back.”

“No. He’s a real human being, Seungcheol.”

“So were the other nine hundred.”

“He’s different-”

“He is _exactly_ the same. Every single strand of DNA in each and every one of them is exactly the same. The only difference is one measly line of code, and the fact that you decided to be a martyr for one of them!”

“Well, maybe that one measly line of code made _something_ in him different.”

“Too bad. We cut it out of the code. Jeonghan, he’s a _clone._ A _defective_ clone.”

“He’s human; he has a personality-”

“So did the rest of them. And you watched all of them die without doing a thing.”

“Maybe I just decided to do something about it.”

“What? Are you with those crazy anti-cloning protest groups now? Just grab a picket sign and march outside, will you?”

“Be quiet.”

“What does he do? Does he wait for you at home, like a good little servant? Is he a lover? What are you using him for?”

“I’m not using him for anything, so be quiet and do your job.”

Seungcheol just snorts and calls Wonwoo in again.

With every test tube wheeled in, Jeonghan sees Jisoo’s face staring back at him. He’s forced to watch as Seungcheol drowns Jisoo- no, the clones- once, twice, three times. He hears them _scream_ , and wonders how he’s endured it for three hundred and seven days straight without flinching when he’s suffering so badly today.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jisoo!” Jeonghan calls out, setting his keys on the table by the door. “I’m home!”

No answer.

“Hello? Where are you?”

There’s the pattering of footsteps on the stairs and Jeonghan gets there just in time to watch Jisoo miss a step, tumbling down the rest of the stairs and landing face-first at the bottom.

“Jisoo!” Jeonghan hurries over, dropping to his knees. “Hey, are you okay?”

He doesn’t know what he expected to happen, but it certainly isn’t Jisoo leaping at him and squeezing him in the tightest hug Jeonghan’s ever received.

“Woah, hey.” Jeonghan pats his head awkwardly. “Are you alright? That looked like it hurt.”

“You’re back, you’re back, you’re back,” Jisoo chants, but it’s shaky and it’s muffled into Jeonghan’s shoulder.

“Well, yeah, I guess. Are you hurt?”

“I thought you weren’t ever coming back.”

“I’m sorry, I left for my job. I thought you knew.”

“I thought you left me forever.”

If Seungcheol was here, he would say how much of a failure Jisoo is; how he barely knows 1% of what the final product is supposed to. But Jeonghan isn’t Seungcheol.

“Jisoo, I would never do that. You trust me, right?”

“Yes,” Jisoo says, and as an afterthought, “it hurts.”

“Yeah, your knee took a pretty bad hit. Can I check it over?”

“No. My head.”

“Your head?”

“The demons came while you were gone.” Jisoo plays with the ends of Jeonghan’s hair. “But I feel better now.”

Jeonghan pulls away from the hug to check on Jisoo. He’s somewhat of a mess; his cheeks are red, and the stars in his eyes twinkle with tears.

“You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.”

It turns out not to be true, because Jeonghan has to cover the gash on Jisoo’s knee with layers of gauze and antiseptic. Jisoo eats chips and a baked potato while he does it.

Eventually Jisoo goes off to continue playing Muramasa, and Jeonghan makes his decision.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m quitting,” Jeonghan says. “You’ll be the head of the program starting tomorrow.”

 _“You’re quitting.”_ Even over the phone, Seungcheol sounds tired. _“Is this because of the clone?”_

“Maybe.”

_“So you’re quitting the job you’ve had for years just because of some clone you took home yesterday?”_

“Seungcheol, I think we both know that the job we have now is not the same one we took up six years ago.”

 _“Well, this is just great. How are we supposed to meet the deadline that_ you _promised?”_

“That’s the least of your worries. Seungcheol, I’m begging you. Cancel the program as quick as possible.”

_“Oh, yeah, I’ll just cancel the thing we’ve been planning for years because you’ve decided to go batshit crazy. Sounds fun.”_

“I’m serious. We’re killing people. We’re taking lives away.”

_“They’re clones; it’s not like they have lives to go back to, or lives to live. They don’t have anything to live for.”_

“Do you really think that drowning people in a vat of acid is good?”

_“Weren’t you the one that said that a couple hundred lives was nothing compared to the billions we’d save? Think about it, Jeonghan. These clones could cure cancer.”_

“I know you always have to be the one that’s right, but-”

_“This has nothing to do with me being right. Do you think I enjoy killing those clones? Do you think I enjoy drowning people? No, but I’m doing it for the greater good. I’m doing it for the billions of people with real lives and loved ones who could have been saved if we’d just finished the program.”_

“And what if it’s not possible?”

_“I’m still willing to take that risk.”_

“Alright.”

_“You don’t have to leave, Jeonghan. You could help us.”_

“No, I can’t do it anymore. Best of luck. I hope you meet that deadline.”

_“You never know when you’ll be employed again. Please, Jeonghan, stay-”_

“I’m starting a research job on Monday.”

There’s silence on both ends. Seungcheol lets out a sigh.

_“Take care, Jeonghan.”_

“You, too.”

“Who were you talking to?” Jisoo asks as Jeonghan walks into the living room.

“Just someone.”

“Okay. Can we order pizza?”

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jeonghan may be an adult, but he’ll admit that he’s been wrong about many things.

The first one would be his job.

The second one would be his taste in pizza- only Jisoo would have known that anchovies and pineapples taste great together.

And the third would be Jisoo’s eyes. They don’t just hold a few stars.

They hold entire galaxies.

 


End file.
